oh sweet (dark) night
by Slytherin Cat
Summary: Some choices can change everything. Those were small, and would have gone unnoticed - except that Voldemort won. AU.


_Word count:_6479

_**oh sweet (dark) night**_

**i. Michael/Cho **

**(the beginning of the end)**

_"Older men declare war. But it is youth that must fight and die." - Herbert Hover_

"Come on Michael, this will be fun."

Michael Corner, seventh year Ravenclaw student, self-proclaimed best looking guy of Hogwarts and most intelligent student, sighed as he let Cho Chang, his ex-classmate slash part-time lover drag him further away from Hogwarts and onto the school grounds, knowing it would be useless to answer her now.

He hadn't seen Cho in a couple of month and had been pleasantly surprised to see her earlier that night, shaking him awake in his dorm and shushing him as soon as he had tried to talk. She had put a finger on his lips and had gestured at him to get dressed, her dark eyes sparkling mischievously.

She hadn't let him say a single word since them, and instead had dragged him behind her through secret passages he didn't know she knew and empty dark corridors that lead them outside faster than he had thought possible.

Still, the thrill brought by the fact that he had snuck out of his dorm in the middle of the night, and with a girl who wasn't a student anymore, was more than enough to make up for her tight grip and the fact that he hadn't yet been able to show her how much he had missed her.

Ever since Death Eaters had invaded the school last year (don't ask him how they did that, he didn't know) and killed the Headmaster, the Professors had instituted a very strict curfew. Breaking it, as some students had quickly discovered when they found themselves in more detentions than they ever had, was not a good idea.

But Michael was in his last year, and detentions didn't scare him. The Professors wouldn't dare put him in any kind of danger, knowing that the outside world was going to be hard enough on him, and his parents couldn't care less as to what happened to him, as long as he stayed alive.

Last year, Cho had been the only one who really got him, and he had been… yes, saddened to see her go. To have her there, even for a single night was better than nothing, and he had known as soon as she led him out of the Ravenclaws' dorms that he would make the most of it.

Not that he couldn't live without her of course – he isn't boyfriend material, and there really is no way he'd let himself get tied up to some girl, even one with a body as nice as Cho's.

"And how would I know that, when you haven't even told me where we are going?" He asked as they finally left the castle and slowed down, now walking at a much more leisurely pace toward the Black Lake. There was no reason for her to shush him now, and since they weren't running anymore, he had no need to keep his breath in check.

Instead of answering him, Cho stopped and tilted her head, a coy smirk on her lips. She ran her fingers lightly up his arm and leaned toward him until her breath ghosted in his ear.

Michael was only wearing a light green polo, and at this moment he could feel her heat through it like the layer was nothing. Just as he was about to reach for her lips though, she drew back and grabbed his hand again.

"Don't you always have fun with me?"

"Yes," he assured her, rolling his eyes, "but you should know that being outside at this hour isn't a good idea. And I'm not sure the weather is really ideal for _fun_."

And indeed, the night sky was covered with heavy clouds – it had even rained earlier that day. Luckily, it was still warm enough for the both of them not to have to bury themselves in layers and layers of heavy sweaters.

"Tempting, but this wasn't the kind of fun I had in mind, really," she said dryly.

"Oh yes? Then why did you sneak in my dorm in the middle of the night?"

"Well… I was on the school's grounds and I thought you might like a small visit… For old time's sake, you could say."

"For old time's sake?" He asked, arching an eyebrow. "Do I need to remind you what we did in those 'old times'?"

"Another time maybe. I'm not here, no, we're not here for that kind of fun. I thought I already told you that."

Had he been less preoccupied by watching where they had ended up, maybe Michael would noticed the way regret flashed over the brunette's face, or the way her eyes seemed just that tad bit broken.

They had left the border of the lake some time ago and were now just on the edge of the Forbidden Forest, in the place where the first task of the Triwizard Tournament had taken place three years ago. This part of the Forest was actually one of the safest, since the dragons' presence had left traces that most inhabitants of the Forest were afraid of.

Cho had shown him this place a long time ago. He should have remembered it, but somehow everything seemed different under the pale light of the moon that filtered through the clouds. The tree they used to sit under seemed to be suffering from a strange kind of distortion, its usually protective branches now looming menacingly over them.

This was the place they had hung out at first, when Cho had been trying to get over Cedric's death and he had been trying to get into her pants. Somewhere along the line, they had become kind of friends and this tree had become their tree.

Michael's smile was more genuine this time as they both sat on the luxurious green grass he just knew was there, but Cho's smile looked forced.

"So, why exactly did you happen to be in Hogwarts today?"

"Well, it just so happens that I got the best marks of the school last year in my Charms ASPICs, and that Flitwick was looking for an assistant… I asked for the place, and he said yes. Which means I'll be staying at Hogwarts for quite a bit more time." Her smile looked real, but her eyes shone which that special turquoise glint that only appeared when she was lying.

Michael shifted uneasily, sensing something was wrong. Try as he could, he couldn't feel happy for her as he knew he should – after all, this kind of news wasn't only good for her, but also for him, since it appeared obvious Cho was interested in rekindling their relationship. Why else would they be here?

"Cho… What are you hiding?"

"I- nothing, I'm not hiding anything," she stuttered, her face so pale it seemed to glow an unearthly light.

"I know you Cho. I know I'm not the best friend ever-"

She scoffed, barely hiding a grin, even though it seemed to hurt her more than anything else.

"-but you can tell me anything. You know I won't judge," he added, trying to reach for her hand in a comforting gesture just as she scrambled away from him, hiding her face from his sight.

He frowned and moved closer, resting his hand on her shoulder in a move he hoped would help – he really wasn't any good with distressed girls. His frown deepened when he realized she was whispering the same words under her breath again and again, almost sounding like she was choking on tears.

"_I can't, oh Merlin I can't."_ Her words were filled with so much sorrow and anguish that he shivered, the world suddenly seeming a little bit darker around them, the shadows a bit more menacing.

"What is it? What can't you do Cho?" Maybe he was panicking a little, but considering the last time he had heard such emotions in her voice she had been telling him about how she had planned to move in with Cedric when they graduated from Hogwarts, it was probably at least a little bit justified.

She latched onto his arm, and her grip was painfully tight. But it wasn't what scared him the most, what turned his blood to ice – no, that was the crazed look in her eyes behind her tears. It was a look he recognized, for he had seen it in his father after his mother had been murdered. It was the look of someone who knew just how wrong what she was about to do was, but who would do it anyway.

His father had been fined heavily for trying to go after his wife's killer behind the Aurors' back, but somehow he knew that what Cho was about to do, what she had perhaps already done, would be much worse than that.

"Cho, what happened?"

"He told me I had to come here, he gave me what I needed to do what he asked of me, and I did, but I just couldn't, I-I couldn't just leave you. Merlin Michael, I'm so so sorry…"

Cho's ramblings didn't really make sense to him, but one thing was sure, something sinister was going on. Feeling suddenly very calm, Michael got up and extended a hand to the short girl.

"Come on, let's go back to the castle. We'll talk to the Headmistress, I'm sure she'll be able to help you."

Cho move back as if struck, and paled even more, if that was possible.

"I can't, I told you that. Michael, _we can't_."

"Cho, you are the most stubborn person I've ever encountered in my life, but there clearly is something wrong, and I'm not about to let you torture yourself over this. You're coming with me and we'll go see McGonagall. Or Flitwick if you prefer, they'll know what to do."

"Didn't you listen?" Her tone was broken and her eyes were pleading. Yes, something was definitely wrong there. "We can't go there. It's too late."

"What do you mean it's too late?"

"I told you. Please, Michael, just listen to me. We have to stay here; he promised me we'd be safe here if I did what he asked. Please, I can't lose you too."

"What-what do you mean? Who promised you that? Cho, what is happening?"

She bit her lips, ducked her head and avoiding his gaze, took a small step back.

"Cho…" But Michael was cut short as screams tore through the night. He whirled around, reaching for his wand - only it wasn't in his pocket anymore.

"Cho, give me back my wand," he said as he extended his hand.

"Promise me you won't go there."

"Cho…"

"_Promise me!" _They had changed place and now she was standing in his way to the castle. Behind her, Hogwarts burned and smoke rose high in the sky.

"Cho… What have you _done_?" Michael's face was torn between shocked and betrayed. For a moment, as he watched Cho in tears but still trying to hold her ground, shock won, but then the sound of deafening screams coming from the school brought him back to reality.

"What have you done…?" He repeated, astonished.

"Oh Michael, I'm so sorry… I didn't want to, I just… I-I had no choice, please you have to understand," she begged him as his stupefaction slowly morphed into anger.

"You could have said no! Look behind you Cho. All of this, all this destruction, all those deaths, they are on your hands. Do you hear me? Everything that is happening right now is your fault, because you were too weak to do what is right!"

Cho's tears redoubled but she raised her wand. "He has taken my mother. Don't you see? She's all I have. I can't lose her, I won't lose her. He promised he'd give her back if I did this. _Please Michael, let me save you._"

So that was what all of this was about. Saving him, like she hadn't been able to save Cedric. Deep in his mind, a part of him screamed at him to just hold her and to stay here with her, to grant her her wish.

He shut down that voice ruthlessly and spat on the ground in front of her, his eyes cold. One step, two steps and he was standing in front of her, his own wand resting against in heart.

"Go on, do it Cho. Obey your Dark Lord like a good little lapdog. Because that's what you are, aren't you? A pitiful, stupid-"

"Shut up."

"-naïve, little girl who'd do anything she's told do like a good dog would."

"Shut up, Michael."

"See what he's already reduced you to?" He continued, ignoring her, "You're nothing more than a tool to him, and as long as he's useful he'll keep your mother, but then he'll just kill her. You think he'll give her back? Why, because he told you he would?"

"Shut up, shut up, shut up." She repeated like a litany, but he could see her hand wavering, so he kept going.

"The Dark Lord cannot be trusted Cho. He's nothing but a liar and a coward. He used you, and he'll use you again if you let him. But go on, stop me. Go on, keep me here. Maybe saving me will help you sleep at night. But then again, maybe I'm wrong, maybe the Dark Lord will give you back your mother."

"He will. _He promised_."

"Of course he did. And I'm sure she'll be oh so proud of her daughter when she learns what you've done," finished Michael with a cold smile.

"Shut up!" She yelled, punching him in the jaw.

Caught by surprise, Michael fell back, but as she convulsively tried to both get him up and to stay at the same place, he knew he had her.

Quickly, he snatched his wand from her hand, and then it was his turn to hold her at the end of his wand.

"Please Michael, please. Don't go there," she pleaded, even though something in her eyes told him she knew it was useless.

"I'm sorry Cho, but you know I have to."

"But you don't! You could just stay here, with me. Stay _safe_."

"And that right here is why you and I would never have worked. We're too different. Goodbye-"

"No, please, don't!"

"-Cho. _Stupefy_."

The red light hit her without a sound, and she dropped to the ground, her expression still pleading. He bent toward her and took her wand, whispering in her ear a last goodbye.

He ran to the castle, praying he wasn't too late, the echo of his last words staying behind him.

'_I'm sorry.'_

**ii. Neville**

**(you don't have to be high to fall)**

If there was a Hell, then Neville was in it. Ever since Hogwarts had fallen six months ago, he had been held by the Dark Lord and his Death Eaters – and it really wasn't a nice place to be in.

He had no idea what was going on in the outside world – wait, no, that was a lie.

He knew that the magical world of Britain had surrendered when news of the great school had reached them. After all, Hogwarts had been said inviolable and the safest place on Earth for witches and wizards, and yet all it had taken the Dark Lord to conquer it was one night.

_(Sometimes, when he closes his eyes, he can still smell the burning flesh and see his fallen classmates' bodies.)_

He knew that the world at large had taken it as a sign that resistance was futile, and since the Dark Lord allowed Half-Bloods and Purebloods to live relatively freely, then why should they bother to rebel when they was no hope to win?

_(Nobody talks about the Muggleborns, but sometimes Neville sees them. They never stay long.)_

He knew that some members of the old Order of the Phoenix were still fighting, but that they were fighting a war they could never hope to win. He knew that they were dying one after the other, and that nobody wanted to be part of a group that was doomed to fail.

He knew that there had been a Prophecy and that it had said that only Harry could beat Voldemort (or him, but Harry had been chosen). And Harry… Well, suffice to say that Harry wouldn't fulfill the Prophecy now.

He knew that the only reason he hadn't been killed yet was because he was a trophy, something Voldemort could use to show the world what would happen to them if they fought against him. After all, what better reminder than the one in whom they could have placed their hopes?

It was for the same reason that Hogwarts was now the Dark Lord's home. To remind everyone of what they had lost, and that there was a new order in the world – with Voldemort on top, of course.

He remembered how his Grandmother had taught him History, about the First Wizarding War, when Voldemort had been gaining power and followers, about how all hope had seemed lost when he had suddenly been destroyed with a baby. All because of a Prophecy.

Only now there was no baby and no Prophecy. Hope was long lost, and Neville had realized that what his Grandmother had thought dark times had in fact been nothing compared to the ones they were facing now. Well, that the outside world was facing. After all, Neville was locked in the dungeons for the most part, and when he was left out… Well, he rather preferred not to think about _that_.

So maybe life outside wasn't too bad for the Purebloods that had followed the Dark Lord, his Death-Eaters and those who had rallied his cause – but what about the Muggleborns, or everyone Neville knew, the people he had spent seven years with and who didn't agree with Voldemort's policies?

Those people were on the run, tracked mercilessly and then put down like dogs. Their deaths were made a spectacle, a show for everyone to see how great their 'Master' was. It was all, look at Him, look at his benevolence, granting them death when he could give them an eternity of torture. After all, this too was easy for Him.

_(And this, Neville knows very well. Hell, remember?)_

He was locked in the place he had taken to consider as his second home, and days passed, one after the others. There was no sunset for him, and there was no dawn either. Just a dark damp cell, and 'visitors' who came when they felt like it.

He didn't know what was worse – the slow and agonizing feeling of his empty stomach and too dry throat, or the white hot pain when spells hit his body again and again.

_(Or maybe it is the hands on his skin: hers cold as ice and his hot as fire. The woman who drove his parents mad and the man who killed his whole world.)_

Perhaps it's the blackness that always surrounded him. Everything seems scarier in the dark, and it was a fear he never really managed to get over.

_(It seems like they know it, because when he's alone it's ever quiet – and he never know what they are or where they came from. It's driving him mad, and that's how he knows it's __**her**__ work. She did it to his parents, but now she has all the time in the world to do it to him, so why use something as simple as the Cruciatus curse, when noises in the dark he can't trace and touch of her lips he can't fight?)_

He had plenty of fears for them to play with, and ever since they had seen him fight in the Department of Mysteries with a broken nose, unable to utter a spell, they had tried to break him. It was like a game, a brutal and bloody game that he could only lose. Either they would go too far and he would die, either one would succeed and he would break. And then die, because what was the use of a broken toy?

_(The toy thing is his idea, he knows it. He's sick and twisted in his mind, and everything that had been human is long gone. It has shriveled up and died decades ago – perhaps it never existed. But that makes them just perfect for one another, the crazy woman and the mad man. They both love blood and torture, and Neville's caught in the middle of it, unwilling toy until they get bored and throw him aside.) _

Of course, Neville knew that ultimately he would die. And that was okay, because there was nothing for him to go back to, even if he somehow managed to escape or was released. One day he'll be free, one day he'll get out of this Hell – one way or another.

_(But in the meantime, she'll kiss him and he'll ignore that she's basically killed his parents, and He'll kiss her and they'll have their parody of love with him caught in the middle.)_

Perhaps it was his price to pay for not being able to stop them in the first place.

**iii. Severus Snape**

**(when all is said and done, all that's left are regrets)**

"_Now that it's over_

_I just wanna hold her_

_I've gotta live with choices I made_

_And I can't live with myself today"_

_Lucy – Skillet_

Her tomb was perhaps the only one that hadn't been destroyed in the whole Godric's Hallows cemetery. Of course, it wasn't only her tomb, it was also Potter's, but if it meant he'd be able to visit her whenever he wanted, well, he'd put up with the fact that they were buried together. The Dumbledore's family vault had been rampaged; the Bones' had been turned to dust when they had made a move against the Dark Lord… But the Potters' tomb had been spared the violence.

("I'm sure I will visit your grave," she had told him when he had chosen the Death Eaters. Cruel irony that he had been sure she was right, and that now he was the one visiting her grave.)

He knelt in front of the tomb, ignoring the way the statue that depicted Lily as an angel protecting her child loomed over him, its disapproving shadow (so much like hers it was troubling) reflecting his thoughts.

He retrieved the old flowers, their once-upon-a-time-white petals old and frail _(those had been Asphodels, for his regrets would follow him to his grave)_, like she would never get to be (_because of you_, whispered his treacherous mind ceaselessly), and replaced them with new ones _(golden and honeydew roses, because he was sorry he betrayed her, because his heart would always stay broken but faithful to her)._

It was a tradition – he wasn't a man of many words, and whenever he tried to speak words failed him anyway. He was much better on his own, locked up with his Potions and doing what he knew best: brow. But Lily had been his best friend, his only friend for a long time and she had been the one he had told everything.

Everything, except the truth, that one little truth he had always kept hidden in fear she would leave him.

_(Forget-me-nots, for a true love, but white tulips, because it had never been returned.)_

He had seen what love had done to his parents after all. Who wouldn't have been afraid of it after that? His father had ultimately killed his mother, and Severus knew he would never be able to live with himself if he ever hurt her.

Except he already had, and now she was gone. Because of him.

_(Rainflowers, for he just had to atone for his sins.)_

He had made the wrong choice. It seemed he always did. First in not choosing her

(she left for someone else, he fell in with the wrong crowd; she gave life, he killed, became a murdered and everything he had sworn not to be),

then in choosing her

(she died, he lived; she fought for what she thought right, he just couldn't remember the last time he found a cause he could belong to),

and finally in obeying to the last wishes of an old man who had maybe become a friend

(the old man died and he had had to tell her only legacy on Earth that he had to die for the rest of the world to live.)

He had told the boy – another wrong choice.

_(Herb-of-grace, for all of his regrets and the blood on his hands because of that choice.)_

Suddenly everything had gotten out of control and he had been left behind, thrown aside by both Light and Dark because none could trust him, and the only one willing to be with him were the dead. Then again, they couldn't protest.

He would give anything to change everything, or maybe even just the smallest detail, he'd give anything and everything if only he could make a difference somewhere. Maybe if he had the chance he could do something right for once.

But there was nothing he could give he hadn't given already, nothing he could attempt that hadn't already failed, no choices left to make.

_(Almond for the promise that he would try anyway.)_

He let his hand ghosts over the shining letters graves on the stone and got up. Maybe next week, he'd bring her Anemones.

_(Anemones, for unfading love.)_

And perhaps next week he would have a solution to make his hands cleaner.

**iv. Lucius**

**(in the name of family)**

_"The world isn't split into good people and Death Eaters. We all have light and dark within us." Sirius Black, Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix._

Winning a war shouldn't feel wrong. It should feel right. Lucius should be basking in well-earned glory, his name and the name of his ancestors finally known to its just glory and he should be right at the top of the world, governing maybe a section or two of the Ministry (like the one charged of the Mudbloods' extermination) with the respect of his peers and of the Dark Lord.

Lucius Malfoy should be a proud man, a powerful wizard with accomplishments he could tell to his descendants and a legacy that would live on for centuries to come.

He should be entertaining the best of the wizarding world in his Manor, throwing balls, each more grandiose than the last to entertain them while his wife drank cup of tea like she always did with politician's wives and then told him each and every piece of gossip he could use to make their husbands do what he wanted them to.

He should be amongst this world greatest.

He was.

He shouldn't mind the blood on his hands, because it was worthless blood. He shouldn't think of the murders he had committed. He shouldn't see their faces haunting him every night.

But he did. Oh how he did.

He should feel exhilarated, accomplished and proud.

But he didn't.

He felt… wrong. Somehow the world he had helped win over and build didn't feel as wonderful as it should be, as great as he had been promised it would be.

Somehow the world he had helped destroy seemed like the better option, and the one they had now felt lacking.

Somewhere along the way all his dreams of greatness had been turned to ashes and had become a fallacy. The world he had depicted to his wife and to Draco, that world that should have been their masterpiece, a piece of art made for the Dark and by the Dark, a piece that should have been perfect had turned out to be flawed.

And perhaps that was to be expected, when the ones who had crafted it had been mere men. After all, he had seen the Dark Lord and he had discovered the truth of him a long time ago, back when he fell for the first time – back when he still had been able to fall.

The Dark Lord had been human, was human and would always be human, and he was no great god.

That was the truth their Lord had tried to hide so hard, and that was the truth he had managed to cover up for many years and to many of his followers.

But the Malfoys were prideful and intelligent and followers of the Dark before they were followers of Man, and Lucius had _seen_. His eyes had been cleared and he had left this life behind, confident that as a man Death would not relinquish its hold on his Lord.

Turned out, Death had never held him.

And so Lucius had had to go back to dreams that tasted of ashes and promises that felt like acid. He had taken back the white mask and the black robes he had once worn proudly, and he had tried to keep his (foolish) son away from all this folly.

He had failed – but perhaps that was his own fault.

He had woven a web of charming lies and truths he no longer believed in so tightly that Draco had stood no chance but to fall in and get stuck.

He had never thought his son would want to join the Dark Lord's side so badly he'd do anything the man asked, but he should have known.

He should have seen the signs, realized that his son was no longer in his control and took the man-who-no-longer-looked-like-a-man's dark smirks for what they were: the expression of a triumph that could only end badly.

And it had.

His son was gone (no more dreams to share), his wife was mad (he was always alone when he drank tea these days) and the world felt wrong (everything died).

_(He couldn't believe it had taken him so many years to realize that he had made so many mistakes he could never atone for. And now the world was paying the price for them, while he lived in a gilded world, a world he had dreamed of but never saw for what it really was: an empty prison, deserted by the only thing that had ever mattered to him – his family.)_

**v. Harry**

**(and it all goes round)**

_"Sometimes I am God, if I say a man dies, he dies that same day." - Pablo Emilio Escobar Gaviria_

_(BEFORE)_

_Potter,_

_As I am sure you have learned this year, the Dark Lord has taken steps to endure he would never die, and as I am sure the Headmaster told you, you have the duty to get rid of those 'steps'. Knowing the old man, I am sure he didn't tell you how you would do so or where you should begin, but considering your resourcefulness to find problems, I'm sure you won't have any problems with it._

_However the Headmaster did impart me with a last piece of knowledge that he told me I should share with you. He hoped to be able to tell you himself, but due to the circumstances we are both aware of, was unable to do so._

_As someone he trusted with everything, he revealed to me that the last piece of your puzzle is hiding right under your nose. Or rather, above it._

_If you do not catch my meaning, look in a mirror. Hopefully, it'll clear everything up. But then again, you are a dunderhead and a Gryffindor, so maybe you will have burned this letter before you ever got to this part. Wouldn't that be a shame?_

_SS._

Harry had read and re-read the letter, but the words written in his Potions' Professor small and neat script still looked as harsh and unbelievingly real to him.

He knew what this meant – it meant that no matter what he had no chance to survive this war. That any dream of a normal life once all of this was over was just that, dreams, and would always stay that way.

He had to die so that Voldemort could be killed, and the Prophecy said he was the only one who could kill him. If he died, then what would happen? How could Voldemort be defeated if the only one able to kill him couldn't anymore?

His room at Privet Drive had never felt so small, and the world around him so suffocating than in those moments where he thought that he had at most a year left to live, and that he probably wouldn't get to enjoy it. He had a task to do, Horcruxes to find and destroy – suicide to commit.

No, it wasn't suicide. It was-it was a sacrifice, a sacrifice for a better cause. He would die so that his friends could live. His life against everyone else's. The universe drove a hard bargain, but he would take what was offered to him, because it really was his only chance. In the great balance of things, he meant nothing more than every other people in the world. What right did he have to let them die so that he could live?

Really, it was better he died. Perhaps after his death someone else would be able to kill Voldemort, or perhaps he would even die at the same time as him – they were connected after all.

Yes, maybe his death would even solve the problem. He was a Horcrux, there was no need to deny it – he had to die for Voldemort to be stopped, and Harry was ready to do it. He would do whatever it took to stop the monster that had killed his parents and had since then tried to destroy everything good in his life.

He would die for himself, for his parents, for Cedric and Sirius, for the little girl he saw slaughtered in his dreams and for the old man who had died because he saw too much. He would die for his friends and the people he loved, for everyone he considered his family.

It would even be worth it.

So why did he feel so bad about it? Why did he feel like… like he wanted to live?

He must have crumbled the letter in his hand a hundred times, and thrown it as far away as possible at least twice as many times. But try as he might, he just couldn't get rid of the words he had read. They were like imprinted behind his eyelids, black letters in a calligraphy that looked far too innocent for words that deadly.

Currently though, he was considering burning it. Maybe once it was reduced to ashes to temptation would disappear. Maybe he could forget if he had no physical reminder, and keep on pretending everything would be alright to everyone else. Maybe he would even be able to stop Hermione from suspecting anything.

Hermione would try to find a solution, would try to fix him – only there was no solution, and his problem wasn't one that could be fixed.

There was nothing she would be able to do, except worry, but she wouldn't, because he would spare her from the terrible knowledge he had received. She would never know the truth, and maybe it would hurt her, but Harry knew she would be free that way.

And he would do anything for his friends.

He flipped the lighter open and looked into the flame. Such a small thing… With a small sigh, Harry flipped it close. And opened it again. Closed it. Opened it. Closed it.

Ten times, twenty times, a hundred times Harry snuffed out the light. It was almost like magic – the flame never really died, it was only born and reborn over and over again until he decided it had fulfilled its purpose.

That flame was bit like human life. So fragile it could be snuffed out in an instant, but so strong if you let it be. Except that once snuffed out a human life was over.

Or was it?

It was like a light had been turned on in Harry's mind. Everything seemed clearer suddenly, and as he flipped the lighter once last time (open), he thought that he had his answer.

After all, the Prophecy said the only Voldemort could kill him – but it didn't mention killing the Horcrux. So maybe if someone else than Voldemort killed him… Well, maybe it would only kill the Horcrux.

It wasn't suicide, Harry though as he stared at the end of his own wand. It's not suicide, because I'm not going to die. I'll just… go to sleep, and wake up, and I'll be able to get rid of Voldemort like I always wanted to and to get on with my life after that.

It's foolproof.

Except that like all plans Harry created, it wasn't. And it went wrong.

Oh boy, how it went wrong…

_(AFTER)_

He smirked as he looked at his reflection, his smooth forehead for once free of dark bangs. Emerald eyes looked colder, harsher somehow, but he still looked like Potter.

It would be the perfect cover.

After all, who would expect their Savior to turn against them?

No, today he had won the war (Potter had won him the war). Today, he was God, and God had decided that the Muggles in this house were just too annoying to be allowed to live any longer.

Twirling Potter's wand – his wand (after all, it answered to this body) – in his hand, he marched down the stairs, his lips whistling a funeral march almost against his will.

Their screams would be delightful.

**vi. Daphne/Theodore**

**(a little bit of light, everywhere)**

"Are you sure you want to do this?"

"Theo, for the last time, yes I'm sure. Now get over here and do this with me."

Daphne's light eyes shined bright with excitement and the soft moonlight seemed to confer a silvery glow to her long blond hair. Smirking, she beckoned Theodore nearer.

"You wouldn't happen to be scared, would you?"

"Me, scared? Greengrass, _please_. As if I'd be scared of such a mundane thing."

"Then come over it and prove it. Jump with me Theo."

"Are you sure this is safe though?"

"Yes," she snapped, "it is. Muggles do it all the time, and I used magic to strengthen everything. Nothing bad will happen. Now come, I don't want to do this alone."

"As my lady wishes."

"That's better."

"Ready?"

"Always," Daphne answered with a smile so big it could have lit up the whole world.

"Then let's go!"

And just as they let themselves fall, their waists tied up to the edge of bridge, Theodore kissed her.

_(Just that tiny bit of light in the dark night.)_

**AN/**

**This was written for:**

** -The Dueling Tournament aka The Game of Darkness, Task 2 (flowers, distortion, benevolence, art, crafting, green, golden, turquoise, sorrow (emotion), "Sometimes I am God, if I say a man dies, he dies that same day." - Pablo Emilio Escobar Gaviria, "Older men declare war. But it is youth that must fight and die." - Herbert Hover, Tragedy (genre), Cho Chang/Michael Corner, Malfoy's Manor (setting), Hogwart's grounds (setting), Write about a Death Eater or Voldemort (bonus)**

** -The Apprentice Competition, Round One (Word: mischievous, Phrase: "You're the most stubborn person I've ever encountered.", Quote: "The world isn't split into good people and Death Eaters. We all have light and dark within us." Sirius Black, Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, Genre: Romance, Setting: the dungeons of Hogwarts, Pairing: Daphne/Theodore, Phrase: "I thought I already told you that.")**

** - Light and Darkness Competition, Round One (Action: drinking a cup of tea, Spell: Stupefy, Character: Neville Longbottom, Pairing: Bellatrix Lestrange/Voldemort, Colour: honeydew, Word: eternity, Song: Skillet – Lucy, Emotion: satisfaction, Dialogue: "I'm sure I will visit your grave.")**

**Anything you can recognize probably doesn't belong to me but rather to the wonderful JKR, to whom I'll never be thankful enough for giving us so many amazing characters to play with.**

**I hope you liked this. Please review. **


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